


Balance

by sigridthehaughty



Series: Stranded [4]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Kidnapped!, M/M, Rape/Non-con References, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 16:26:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sigridthehaughty/pseuds/sigridthehaughty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>TnT + Random Nasty Delta Quadrant Aliens = ?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Balance

**Author's Note:**

> Original story notes: This is the third and indal installment of a Tom and Tuvok series which started with Stranded and continued with Bonded. There's also a PWP called Interlude. Also, According to Ovh-Eng (Big List o' Vulcan Words) at the Vulcan Language Institute, a le'matya is a poisonous desert predator.
> 
> Thanks to: Carolyn, beta extraordinaire, who has stuck with me through thick and thin on my expedition through Tu/P land, and Raku, who started it all, and also gives great beta.
> 
> First posted to ASCEM (alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated) on 3/12/00.

"Not too shabby, hey Geron?" Tom looked around at his surroundings with satisfaction. "Maybe we can get a bit of shoreleave out of the deal." The sun was warm, the lizards were singing. All in all, a very lovely little M-class planet.

"I'll be happy if these things taste as much like tomatoes as they look," Geron replied, holding the fruit aloft. He turned to look at the third crewmember. "And if you're right, and this grass can be genetically engineered to become a cereal grain."

"Imagine it," Brownowski said. "A steady supply of non leola root carbs."

"Too much to ask for. Way too much," Tom grinned at Ensign Brownowski who had turned his attention to a stand of wildflowers. "Me, I'll settle for two days of shoreleave on that beach Chell and Perkins are currently surveying. Brownowski, what about you?"

"Two days down here, definitely. It's been too long without a break on the ship. The air almost smells like home."

Tom sniffed experimentally. "Doesn't smell familiar to me. But those trees, they almost look like pine --except that they're maroon." He walked over to tree and ran a finger down the spongy bark, then began to scan some of the plants around the base.

"Hey, these ferns are edible..."

Geron made a face.

"They smell good, though," Tom insisted. "Like cinnamon."

Geron leaned his face down and sniffed.

\---::---

"Captain, several ships are decloaking above the planet. It is not a class of ship we have encountered before..."

Captain Janeway was suddenly tense. It was too much to ask for, wasn't it, that their string of good luck continue? "Let's hope we haven't infringed on anyone's rights to the natural resources on this planet, Tuvok. Recall the away teams and let's see if we can't make contact."

"I am already doing so. Captain, the ships match the description the Norshi gave us of the Randaq."

"Yellow alert."

The captain braced against the ensuing wave of tension. They'd been lucky enough to meet up with a peaceful race of people who'd given them a who's who of this section of the Delta Quadrant. The Randaq certainly weren't anyone they'd wanted to meet up with. Fortunately, although they were numerous, their ships apparently couldn't match Voyager's speed.

"Did we know that they had cloaking technology, Tuvok?"

"Negative, Captain. Apparently the Norshi were unaware of this."

"Captain, they aren't responding to our hails," Harry said.

\---::---

"Hey, guys?"

Tom stiffened as Tuvok informed him of the developing situation. Shit. Alien ships in orbit around the planet? "Yeah, Brownowski?" he said distractedly.

Geron cautiously nibbled at a frond of fern. "Maybe cooked?" he said, looking up at Tom.

"Uh, guys..." Brownowski repeated nervously.

Tom ignored the tentative query, halting in the process of carefully uprooting a plant as he felt the brief touch of his bondmate's mind on his end. He looked up and reflexively scanned the sky.

"We've got company," Brownowski said.

Turning, Tom saw a pale-faced ensign and three hulking figures. ~ Um, Tuvok? We've got trouble. ~

\---::---

"Captain, Lieutenant Paris' team has been approached by the Randaq. They are armed and hostile." Tuvok's voice was flat.

"Harry, can't we get a lock on Tom and the others?"

"We can't. A force field is interfering with the transporter."

"Hail them."

"No response," Harry said, his face grim.

"Tom and his team have been taken aboard the alien vessel."

The captain stiffened at the quality of Tuvok's voice. Not many could tell the difference between Tuvok's measured tone and this inflectionless one, but Kathryn Janeway could. "Do we have any idea how many of these ships there are?"

"Negative, Captain. I am attempting to see if we can use the ships' ion trail to track them should they resume their cloak. I will, however, be able to use my bond with Tom as a... homing device."

The captain responded with a firm nod of her head. "Ensign Baythart, move us into position. Tuvok, attempt to lock onto that ship with the tractor beam. If these ships cloak themselves, Ensign, you will rely on Mr. Tuvok's coordinates. We are at red alert."

\---::---

You'd wanted this, Tom told himself. You asked to be on an away-team, not wanting to babysit Voyager as it sat in orbit way up in the sky so high. A nice M-class planet. Stretch your legs. See if you couldn't find a nice little place for you and Tuvok to spend an afternoon, or a day or two, away from the crew, all by yourselves. Finally let go and drop those last barriers between you. But no, instead you get shanghaied.

Tom looked across at his fellow away team members. Geron had his Maquis face on and Brownowski was trying valiantly not to look petrified. Well, it remained to be seen what these aliens wanted.

~ Tuvok. So far, so good. We're okay. ~

~ We are attempting to use a tractor beam on the alien vessel. ~

Tom felt a bump and a wrench as the ship rocked. ~ Yup, felt it. ~

"Tractor beam," Tom told his companions. They looked at him blankly. "You have to remember the advantages of being bonded with a Vulcan."

Geron smiled slightly, and Brownowski looked faintly relieved.

"It's going to be okay," Tom said reassuringly. I hope, he thought.

\---::---

"The tractor beam is ineffective, Captain. They are breaking away."

"Let's hope they can't outrun us."

Swiftly, Tuvok related the situation to Tom, simultaneously calculating the myriad possibilities.

\---::---

Well, one thing for sure, the Randaq weren't big on hygiene. The smell was awful. Somehow the appalling odor kept Tom from being terrified -- it distracted him from the waves of menace the aliens were exuding. He managed to nod interestedly at the questions while doing his best dumb blond impersonation. He looked at their faces; their noses seemed, well, non-existent. It was probably lucky for them.

A chicken-and-egg question posed itself -- did they smell so bad because they had no way of knowing how bad they smelled, or did their noses just evolve themselves out of existence to avoid the stench?

Tom looked at his fellow crewmates: Brownowski was now looking less scared than nauseous, while Geron merely looked bored and somewhat ill.

"What is your purpose in landing on this planet?"

Tom turned his attention back to his captors. Smile. Nod.

"Where is your home?"

Nod. Smile.

"What is the complement of your crew?"

Smile.

"What is your fuel source?"

"How fast is your ship?"

"Describe your weapons system."

Nod, smile, nod.

The nodding and smiling was kind of dull, actually. But at least he knew where the questions were leading. And he knew that he was the only person who could give them any information that would be remotely valuable. And that was something he just wasn't going to do.

The problem was, these guys were telepathic. He very much hoped that his own abilities made him less, not more, vulnerable to them.

\---::---

Captain Janeway blinked with dismay as, one by one, the Randaq ships winked out of sight. Tuvok appeared unperturbed and directed Voyager's course.

"Captain. These ships, while numerous, are not fast. I do not think we will have any trouble overtaking them."

"But..."

"However, they are heading for their system. If we could force the ship carrying our crew to turn away from their home, we would have a better chance of recovering them."

"Seems logical. Voyager is the sheepdog and we just need to cut the ram out of the herd."

"Exactly. We may, however, run into some difficulties if the other... sheep... do not get out of our way."

"How well will our shields hold up if we run them down?"

"Unknown, Captain."

"Well, we'll just have to find that out, won't we..."

\---::---

Okay, Tom, he told himself, you can do this. He hoped. The questions were becoming relentless, and worse, they weren't being spoken aloud anymore. They were simply being inserted into his brain. Smelly, telepathic aliens.

What a combination.

Casting a quick glance at Geron and Brownowski, he realized it was decision time. The aliens had figured out they'd hit the jackpot with Tom. He was the senior officer, the one who could give out information, if there were any to be given. Geron was gone, behind some shield of uncaring he'd probably had to develop as a kid during the Cardassian occupation of Bajor, and Brownowski, having finally emptied his stomach, was doing his best to imitate him.

So, Tom thought, he could either shore up his shields, which would mean closing off his link to Tuvok, or keep the link open and transmit whatever information he could. Not that there was much to transmit. He looked at his interrogators. His security codes would have been changed as a matter of course the moment he'd fallen into enemy hands, so even if he gave them that information, it would be impossible for them to access any systems.

But somehow it seemed as if giving any bit of information would create a chink in his armor, so he wasn't saying anything. He knew from Tuvok that there were many of the Randaq ships, and he could sense these beings' greed and hostility. And Tom could guess what they wanted -- to lure Voyager to their planet where they hoped that with a sheer force of numbers they'd be able to capture it; to take its technology for themselves. Granted, Janeway would blow Voyager up first, but somehow that wasn't an option that Tom really wanted to contemplate.

For a moment, he allowed himself to quietly reach out for Tuvok. To sense the concentration and concern even as he informed his mate of the aliens' probable intent. Then he shored up his own shields, knowing Voyager was in pursuit and doing everything possible to retrieve them.

For a moment, Tom wished he could just let Tuvok take his mind behind Tuvok's own shields, as Tuvok had done one long-ago day on the bridge. But that wasn't really a choice. Tom needed to be fully present for Brownowski and Geron -- at least, for as long as he could. And anything Tuvok could let Voyager know might be the difference between a rescue and, well, not being rescued.

Still he wished that he didn't have to put up with the hairy, smelly oaf who was battering at his mind so crudely.

\---::---

Tuvok felt Tom's presence in his mind, even as he considered the vectors that Voyager would need to follow to cut the vessel containing the captured Voyager crewmembers out from the fleet of the Randaq ships and force it away from the others, away from reinforcements. The Randaq had apparently reached a maximum warp of 7.2 and Voyager, fortunately, could sustain that speed as long as it took. No, the problem was, until they could develop a more accurate way to detect the cloaked vessels, their course would be impeded by what they could not see. Already Voyager had twice run down an invisible vessel, the shields taking something of a beating as the enemy ship bounced off. The only benefit was that both ships had exploded, the second having taken yet another ship with it.

Tuvok was on the verge of frowning down at the console as he contemplated the best course of action. Most of his mind was occupied by the attempts to maintain shields; chart a course; isolate the vessel carrying Tom, Crewman Geron and Ensign Brownowski; even as he attempted to ascertain how the enemy ships' shields might be penetrated so that the crewmembers could be beamed safely back. It would only be a matter of time, he assured himself. He felt a flash of resentment. He had become used to piloting in synch with Tom; the seconds wasted in communicating his tactics seemed wasteful. But it was illogical to resent Ensign Jenkins for not being Tom.

He reached out to touch Tom's mind briefly to send a message of strength. Then, despite his instinct to shield him as best he could, Tuvok left his mate to fend for himself and bent over the console with renewed determination.

\---::---

Geron and Brownowski were scared, but fine. Tom attempted to monitor them, even as the Randaq hauled him away. They hadn't gotten past his shields… Yet. But they'd sensed his empathic talents, and they were going to make use of them. Somehow, they were going to make use of them.

Tom mentally reviewed all the lessons he'd learned, and fortified by the touch of Tuvok's mind on his, and by the memories of the ship and the people he desperately wanted to protect, held on tight.

\---::---

B'Elanna Torres swore at the specs that she was working with. The energy fluctuations in the Randaq shields didn't make any sense. What the hell was she expected to do with this useless information?

She nearly spat at Seven as the woman approached her.

"Lieutenant Torres. The fluctuations seem to derive from the enemy vessel's power source. Instead of attempting to compensate for the energy spikes, the alien systems seem to recycle the peaks to compensate for the ebbs."

"Can we disrupt the cycle somehow?" Slowly, a solution seemed to be presenting itself.

"It is possible." Seven bent her head to the console and began running a simulation.

\---::---

Shit. He could feel their anticipation as he flinched, writhed, twisted, attempted to evade the clamp of their minds on his. He attempted to find a place in his mind where nothing could touch him. Like a rabbit pursued by a fox, he dove for cover, and hid.

\---::---

"Captain, we were able break through the alien shields and lock onto Crewman Geron's and Ensign Brownowski's comm badges. They should be in sickbay as we speak."

"And Tom?"

"Unfortunately, Captain, he seems to have been taken deeper into the ship. We have not been able to get a lock on him."

"Is he..."

"Lieutenant Paris is... alive." He was alive, Tuvok repeated to himself. The bridge fell quiet, and the crewmembers bent to their tasks with renewed determination.

\---::---

"Tom," Harry said, sliding into a booth. Tom looked around. Where were they? Sandrine's? Yeah, Sandrine's, of course...

"Sorry I'm late," Harry continued. "But we had a problem with... the warp coil... matrix."

"The... what?" Tom leaned back and inhaled. What was that smell? Had Neelix attempted to set up another of his buffets inside the holoprogram?

"Yeah, we're going to need your help."

Tom shook away the vague sense of unease and looked into his friend's eyes. "Go get B'Elanna."

Harry smiled. "She's not half as good at this stuff as you are."

"What are you talking about? I'm the pilot, she's the engineer. Remember?"

And then it hit him. A sense of wrongness. What had he just said? He was the pilot. He'd given them something. Something they could build on...

\---::---

It had taken 10.3 hours to retrieve two of the three crewmembers who had been taken captive. Another 8.2 hours had passed.

"What can you sense, Tuvok?" Captain Janeway asked urgently.

"Nothing, Captain. The link exists, but he has closed it down from his end."

Tuvok glanced to where Ensign Kim was feverishly working. He knew that Lieutenant Torres and Seven of Nine would be spurred by their success to find a way to retrieve Tom. The Randaq vessel was isolated, cut off from assistance, and unable to outrun Voyager.

There was little more assistance he could render in the quest to retrieve Tom. And now that he could spare his attention, Tom could not be reached.

\---::---

Nightmare scenario after nightmare scenario.

The Norshi, being obliterated by the Randaq. Janeway screaming at him to _do_ something. She was locked out of the computer system. What were his codes? Tom stared through the viewscreen, aghast at the sight of the peaceful city they'd visited burning as wave after wave of Randaq ships dropped their payloads. It was as if he could smell the burning flesh.

The smell...

"Your codes, dammit, Tom. We have to save them."

"My codes...?" Tom asked, dazed. He tried to catch his breath, and that sense of wrongness came again. "My codes were changed when I was taken captive. They won't do you any good."

"What the hell are you talking about, Tom? Your codes, I need your codes."

"You're not Captain Janeway. You're not..."

\---::---

It was a matter of time. Just a matter of time, Tuvok told himself. Why, then, did it seem that there was not enough of it?

And why could he not reach Tom?

He pointedly turned his mind away from such thoughts and reviewed the tactics which would ensure Voyager's success in herding the alien ship away from an asteroid field in which it was attempting to take cover.

\---::---

Tom stared, aghast, at the blood dripping from B'Elanna's forehead.

"Tom. Stop gaping. We have to do something..."

"What? What happened?"

"The ship was attacked. The shields are down. You have to help me reconfigure them."

"I... Yes..."

Tom strode towards the console and watched as it shimmered, slowly taking its accustomed shape.

Weird. Why... And what was that _smell_?

Turning he looked at B'Elanna. "This is wrong."

"You bet it's wrong. We have to _do_ something."

"This is _wrong_."

The scene blurred...

"The mutiny simulation is most effective. However, we must review all access points to the bridge."

"Well, what else is there besides Jeffries Tube and the transporter? And the turbolift, obviously."

"There must be another access point."

"Tuvok. You know there's not." Tom smiled into the face of his mate and waited for a pulse of affectionate warmth. It was good to be home.

He got disdain.

"You are not being helpful."

"What? What's wrong with you?"

"I need your assistance and yet you refuse it."

"Tuvok..." Tom reached out through the link, confused.

Pain. Overwhelming pain.

"NO!!!"

It was not Tuvok. Not Tuvok. And now they could get in as easily as they liked. Tom sobbed.

Stupid, stupid, stupid... Why, with every scenario, did he not remember where he was, what they were doing? Why did he not remember?

Rolling in tightly around his consciousness, he tried again, exhausted, to refuse the Randaq access to his mind. Tried to push them out and nearly succeeded...

\---::---

Tuvok tensed as he felt Tom reach out. Stumbled at the burst of pain.

And then nothing.

He could not feel the link.

Was the link dead? Was Tom dead? Should Voyager stop pursuit?

He could not feel the link.

\---::---

"Failure. You're a failure. You're not fit to be a Paris."

Tom looked up into the cold face of his father. I am fit, he told himself. Tuvok. Tuvok. There's Tuvok.

The dead bodies of Odile, Charlie, and Bruno.

Their faces reproached him even as he felt, again, the pain and shock and horror of their deaths.

Failure. You failed...

Prison.

"Pretty." A hand grabbed him.

"Pretty worthless." He was shoved against the wall.

No. Not this. Not again.

\---::---

Several Randaq ship had come to the assistance of the ship they were pursuing. The bridge crew hung on grimly as torpedo fire rocked Voyager. But there were not sufficient ships to provide distraction from the growing sense of an empty, cold space at Tuvok's core.

And then the last Randaq ship was destroyed and the pursuit continued, and the options available narrowed.

\---::---

"I was your friend, Tom. You let us down. If you had only helped us in engineering, the warp core wouldn't have blown."

If the warp core had blown, we wouldn't be here right now. But they were here. Tom shook his head in confusion. He could smell the... burning? What was that smell?

 _Warning. Life support will fail in. Three. Minutes._

"So what am I supposed to say now, Tom? So long, it was nice knowing you?"

"Harry. I'm sorry. I didn't think..."

"No, that's something you're not big on. I thought something once too, Tom."

"Harry..."

"I thought you were my friend. But you're just a loser."

\--

"It's your fault the Norshi are dead, Tom. I couldn't get access to the computers and now look..." Captain Janeway gestured sorrowfully around the bridge. Harry dead, draped over the comm console. Tuvok lay in a pool of viscous green.

Tom caught his breath in a sob.

"No. Not real. None of this is real..."

\--

"Worthless. Worthless to me."

Tuvok gazed down at him and Tom reached out with his hands, desperately. Why couldn't he feel Tuvok in his head? Had Tuvok severed their bond?

"Please. Tuvok, please."

"Worthless to me. Not worthy of our bond."

"Tuvok. Tuvok."

Tom reached out, this time mentally, and pain slammed into him. Pain slammed into him and the room around him shivered with the shock of it.

\---::---

Pain. Anguish. The sensations briefly flooded the cold hard core within Tuvok to overflowing, then receded.

"Captain. Tom... lives."

A sigh of relief, faint, from the captain's lips. A tense frown from Ensign Kim. A gathering up of energy.

Tom would be retrieved. Tuvok would not fail him.

\---::---

The words surrounded him now. Failure. Friendless. Helpless. Hopeless. Useless.

And then a memory of unbearable tenderness.

Stars. Thousands of gold stars. And impossible chocolate brown ones.

And Tuvok, calling him worthless.

Not real. Don't be real. None of this is real. Am I real?

\---::---

"Dammit, it's our only choice."

"It's too risky." Janeway turned on her first officer with an exasperated growl.

"We haven't been able to retrieve him. The next best thing is to send someone over there to get him."

"Captain. I volunteer."

"Tuvok, we need you here. Sensors have picked up about twenty Randaq vessels hot on our trail."

"I'll go. I owe Tom that much," Chakotay insisted. "I'll take two others with me."

Janeway bit her lip. Risk her first officer and lose both him and her best pilot? Or call off the rescue mission. What a choice to have to make.

"Make it so."

\---::---

Not real. Don't be real. None of this is real. Am I real?

Faces. Faces upon faces. Did he recognize them? Yes that beloved face. He knew that face.

But who was that?

Tom squinted.

"You? I know you. You're..."

\---::---

Tuvok watched.

1.2 hours and the doctors ministrations were completed.

"The injuries to Mr. Paris' neural pathways were quite severe," the EMH commented.

This had been readily apparent to Tuvok from Tom's condition when he had first been allowed to see his mate's body.

"But he should recover."

"Fully?" the captain asked.

"Physically, yes." The doctor paused. "I am hopeful that his bond with Mr. Tuvok will help him with some of the psychological damage. It remains to be seen."

Talk was pointless. He needed to be alone with his bondmate.

"I will leave you alone with Mr. Paris, Mr. Tuvok."

Yes. Go.

\----::----

Eight point three hours passed. Tuvok had returned to his silent watch. The link felt dead. It existed, but what had once pulsed and glowed with life now was cold and still.

Perhaps, when Tom regained consciousness...

Tuvok had finished his bridge shift. He had eaten a meal. He had attempted a meld, but had pulled back when he felt the pain it caused Tom.

Perhaps when Tom regained consciousness. Until then, he would watch.

\---::---

Tom opened his eyes. Slowly. Cautiously. His head throbbed at the slightest motion.

Sickbay. Well, this was something they hadn't tried before.

"Mr. Paris. I'm glad to see you are awake."

Tom shut his eyes again.

"You've been out for twelve hours. If you like, you can return to your quarters."

Right. Tom shut his eyes more tightly.

"Tom..."

Tom shivered at the sound of that voice.

No. It wasn't Tuvok. It wasn't. At any minute that voice would start demanding security codes and clearances and tactical maneuvers and crew complements and... He hadn't revealed any of it before, he was damned if he was going to do so now. Besides, if it were Tuvok, he'd feel his mate's cooling touch in his mind. But he felt only the pain, which pounded in his head and sent spasms through his body.

Clenching his teeth, he grimly awaited the next words.

"Tom?"

"Don't," he whispered. Curling up in ball, he turned his back on the-thing-which-was-not-Tuvok.

And the sound of retreating footsteps, a door sliding open, then closed.

\---::---

Subtle. They were being subtle this round -- they'd even managed to recreate the antispeptic smell of sickbay. And there were no demands, no insults, no pleas, no nightmare visions. Just reasonableness. It wasn't going to work. They weren't real. None of them.

What were they going to use Chakotay for, though? For a second his eyes drifted to the first officer and the man just returned his gaze calmly. Tom snapped his eyes back to fix on nothing in particular.

"Tom. Please. Just speak to us."

When he failed to respond, the captain turned to Tuvok. Double-teaming him, were they?

And then the low voice. Deep. Beloved. "Tom. Can you not tell us what happened?"

He was able to keep his eyes open now, despite the throbbing in his skull. He allowed the images of these people to flicker on the edge of his peripheral vision, very carefully refusing to look at Tuvok who now came to stand directly in his line of sight. His eyes flickered back to Chakotay. He remembered the dimly lit room he had been held in. The fetid smell. Then Chakotay's face, being grabbed, the faint tingle of a transporter beam.

Maybe Chakotay was real. For a second, Tom let himself feel hope.

No. This was just another way to trick him. They'd found another character to use. He wouldn't be fooled.

More voices, but he didn't let himself hear the words.

\---::---

Another round. This time Harry and Tuvok. Tuvok standing further back from him, watching, his eyes taking in every gesture. Tom made sure that there were very few to read.

"Tom, how are you feeling?" Harry's voice was quiet.

The pain in his head was unremitting. Why wouldn't they just leave him alone? Maybe Voyager would give up, fly away, leave him behind and they would finally kill him and end this.

Please let this end...

\---::---

The doctor had said that Tom was still in considerable pain -- pain that would recede, in time, pain that Tom simply had to bear.

If the link were open, he could relieve some of that pain. He could sense it, dimly, but only in the careful way he held his body, the glazed look in Tom's eyes, the strain evident on his face,. The face which averted itself from him, the eyes that would not meet his gaze but always slipped away. With every day it seemed that Tom receded further, built barriers higher. In his dreams, Tuvok searched for his bondmate. Sought a connection. Seeking, without finding.

He wanted to press his fingers to his bondmate's face and initiate a meld if his bondmate would not -- could not? -- reach out to him. But that was not appropriate. Not acceptable.

Not possible.

\---::---

Tom allowed himself to respond to the doctor. Not answer him, but he would listen. He began to pick up the small tasks -- sterilizing tricorders; making small repairs; downloading files. The routine was familiar. But he wouldn't go outside Sickbay. They were waiting out there. He knew it.

\---::---

"Tom."

Tom turned to find the Talaxian looking at him. He was bearing a tray, several bowls of various somethings.

Hunger had finally driven him to sample the food the doctor retrieved for him from the replicator, and he'd managed to start trusting that it wasn't going to be poisoned; drugged so that he would start babbling.

He wouldn't treat patients, wouldn't go near them. Not when Chell came in with a burn, or Seven came in to have a very minor wound bandaged. He couldn't be certain that they wouldn't turn against him.

But this, Neelix offering him food. What was that about?

The Talaxian came closer, and a smell rose from the tray. For a second, the smell triggered something, some sensation.

And then Tom was gagging, retching, convulsing on the floor.

Neelix watched, horrified.

\---::---

A setback. Neelix was distraught, and Tuvok was... resigned? He searched within himself and could not put a name to his condition. He worked, he was efficient. He meditated, and found something which might be called balance. But it was not... satisfactory. It would be possible to set aside the bond, should he so choose. But he did not choose. He did not wish to make that choice. He did not wish that choice to be available to him.

\---::---

The doctor sighed, looking down at his patient. He'd been encouraged by the fact that Tom had settled into a routine. That Tom acknowledged his presence, and responded to his voice, even if Tom refused to speak himself. But he hadn't thought it healthy, frankly, for a man to stay cooped up in sickbay for two weeks. Or for him to refuse to speak to anyone who came in; to remove himself to the furthest corner of the room and stare at the wall when he heard the doors opening or closing.

So he'd pushed.

He'd thought of the holodeck -- he and Tom could go there together. Perhaps a wide-open space. Something reminiscent of Earth. But Tom had just shut his eyes. So he'd tried again. Thought that Sandrine's would be a familiar comfort. But when Tom had started insisting that it wasn't real, none of it was real, that the _doctor_ wasn't real, he had realized the magnitude of his error. Taking a man who, it was now apparent, distrusted his perceptions of reality into a holodeck was not the best idea in the world.

When Sandrine had walked up to Tom, Tom had turned and bolted out the door.

The trust that Tom had shown the doctor was now completely gone.

\---::---

"I don't know what else to suggest, Captain." The doctor's voice was frustrated.

"Well, I'm sure Chakotay would be willing."

Tuvok listened to the conversation, his face impassive. It had been weeks. Weeks of watching his mate shrink from him. Weeks of reaching out, of holding the link wide open, waiting for any response from Tom. Weeks of attempting to reach him with his voice -- reading to him, recounting the day's events, the ship's efficiency ratings.

And now to hear that Commander Chakotay would be asked to help Tom heal.

The commander was the ship's de facto counselor. There was logic.

There was logic in the fact that Tom seemed to trust that the man who had physically removed him from the Randaq ship was real.

What was not logical was the resentment Tuvok felt at being asked to watch the commander and Tom interact. To know that Tom might tell Chakotay what he could not bear to say to Tuvok.

The buried jealousies stirred. My mate, Tuvok thought. Mine.

"I concur with you both," Tuvok said. "It is only logical to pursue any course which will restore Tom to..." Us. Me. "...himself."

The captain nodded decisively. "Make it so, Doctor."

\---::---

He was beginning to look forward to the not-Chakotay's visits. Dimly, he wondered why the aliens hadn't used Chakotay to torture him previously. But unlike his other hallucinations, this one never said hurtful words. So what Chakotay did, Tom did. When Chakotay ate, he ate. He hadn't liked eating as much with the doctor. The doctor never ate.

Gradually Tom let himself become comfortable with the quarters they had found for him. They weren't his old quarters, they weren't the quarters he'd shared with Tuvok. The fact that they weren't made him feel somehow safe.

\---::---

Instead of meditation, Tuvok allowed himself to... remember.

Satisfaction.

He had handled the personnel matter quite differently than his usual manner. Sensed the problem, sensed the unease in his officer, traced it to a conflict between he and another security officer, and had nipped a problem in the bud, so to speak. It was a result of his bond with Tom. The logic of the situation, strictly speaking, had not been logical. But it had had its own internal logic, which he had been able to discern. He was... pleased.

Most pleased.

He walked through the doors to his quarters and awaited his mate's greeting with satisfaction.

"Hey you."

Tuvok's lips twitched. His mate was sitting amidst a pile of medical tricorders. It was a task that could have been accomplished during his shift at the Sickbay the next day, but Tom did this more frequently as of late. Anything that could be accomplished in some proximity to Tuvok was done just so. And the doctor had seen the logic of getting the work accomplished, no matter where that work took place.

~ What? ~ Tom asked, feeling the contentment in his mate.

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. ~ What, what? ~

Tom tilted his head slightly, then a smile crossed his face. ~ Feeling playful, are we? ~

~ Playful? ~ Tuvok's tone was tinged with faint amusement.

~ Teasing then? Tuvok, are you a tease? ~

~ Certainly not. ~ There, again, he felt it. Satisfaction. Even if the bond was not complete, there was much to delight in in this union. He watched, eyebrow raised, as Tom stood.

~ What _are_ you up to? ~ Tom's eyes were narrowed slightly as he tried to reach into the bond and find the source of the contentment his mate was exuding.

Tuvok lightly tapped the information just beyond Tom's reach, just as Tom's consciousness approached. Tom followed, smiling in amusement as he reached further and further inside Tuvok until...

~ Oh... ~

Tuvok watched with satisfaction as his mate's eyes grew dark. Tom had come across something. Not the something he was seeking, but something.

~ Do I really make you feel like that? ~ Tom's expression was one of delighted lust.

~ Yes. And like this. ~ Tuvok presented his satisfaction over his solution to his personnel problem like a gift.

~ I... You... ~

~ I did not think it was possible to stutter mentally, t'hy'la. You consistently amaze me with your talents. ~

That did it. Tuvok braced himself just as Tom sprang at him, knocking him to the couch. Their bond glowed with a fierce light.

~ You're supposed to be fighting me. ~

~ Illogical to struggle out of your embrace. It is exactly where I wish to be. ~

~ Oh. Well in that case... ~

Teeth nipped at Tuvok's neck while hands firmly caressed his body. Tuvok relaxed into the sofa cushions as his mate bathed him in a wealth of sensation, affection.

~ Gods, Tuvok. I would almost say that you're... ~

~ I am...? ~

~ The Vulcan equivalent of happy. Content. ~

~ This should not surprise you. ~

Tuvok rolled Tom off his body and stood, looking down into the flushed face of his mate. He leaned down and picked Tom up and slung him over his shoulder.

"What? Tuvok...?"

Tuvok responded with an image of one of his ancestors, returning home with the spoils of war.

"Oh yeah? What are you going to do with your 'prize'?"

Tuvok sent Tom a wealth of images and then Tom was deposited none too gently on the bed.

"Oh. My."

~ Indeed. ~

\---

This did not help. These memories did not help.

Tom was being counseled by _Chakotay_. Chakotay knew how his mate had suffered, Tuvok did not. Chakotay spent time offering comfort, counsel.

And Chakotay was being... smug. Yes, slightly smug. Tuvok knew smugness. Chakotay knew that Tom had rejected Tuvok repeatedly. Had seen Tom shudder away from him when they encountered each other in a turbo-lift. Knew that the shock on Tuvok's face meant that their bond could not even indicate close proximity anymore.

Chakotay's gloating was most inappropriate in a counselor. But what choice had Tuvok? Chakotay was the only person whom Tom seemed to trust. Was it simply that Chakotay had been his rescuer? Or was there something more to it?

He and Tom had had their moments of miscommunication -- misunderstanding. Could Tom now not trust Tuvok because he had done his duty by all three captured crewmembers rather than protect his mate from telepathic assault?

He did not understand. Meditation did not help him understand.

Why could Tom not tell him enough so that at least he would understand?

Chakotay would not help him to understand either. Insisting that all communication between he and Tom was privileged. Warning Tuvok to stay away, that any attempt to contact his bondmate could impede his recovery.

The situation was most unsatisfactory.

\---::---

The not-Chakotay was patient. He reintroduced Tom to the messhall but didn't cavil if Tom refused to stay. He walked Tom past the holodecks and took him instead to the hydroponics bay when Tom had shuddered away from the holodeck door. Gradually, Tom grew used to seeing other people, learned to nod in a friendly fashion to those people he knew least well. But he shied away from contact with anyone he'd been close with before. They were the ones that the Randaq had used. They could not be trusted. No matter how much he wished he could trust, it was safer not to.

\---::---

Aching loneliness. Worse than when he felt his bond with T'Pel stretching to an impossible thinness. Stretching till it didn't break, didn't snap, but merely evaporated, leaving him entirely alone. And then the bright _alive-ness_ of his bond with Tom. The bond was so resilient even in its fragility. So comforting, even in its lack of completion. Holding the promise of more...

Tuvok had expected to finally be able to pour himself into Tom, show Tom everything he'd learned, and everything he knew. To have Tom pour himself into him. This would yet happen. Any other outcome was unacceptable. Illogical. Surely all that they were to each other could not be made to be as if it never were.

Or could it? He had no idea of the damage done to Tom; no idea if Tom even remembered a small part of what they had been to each other.

He only knew that his mate saw him and felt fear.

\---::---

Tom managed now to leave his quarters and wander the ship on his own. He'd returned to Sickbay, resumed the tasks. The tedium was relaxing.

He didn't interact with the crew, fixing a slight smile on his face and staring at a point beyond everyone's shoulders. Some tried to say hello. Most ignored him.

And then he found himself wandering the ship, and attracted into Engineering by the steady thrum of the warp core. The sound was familiar, comforting, like a heartbeat.

\---::---

B'Elanna looked up to see Tom standing quietly. It was the first time he'd actually looked as if he was taking in his surroundings. She smiled, slightly, and Tom's gaze flicked away from her.

"We're working on the slip-stream drive again," she said conversationally, looking down at her console.

She didn't notice that Tom's shoulders tensed.

"We thought, maybe, we could use short bursts… Maybe if we can't make the journey back all in one shot, we can break it up and do it in ten jumps. Or twenty. Want to see the specs?"

Tom's breath was coming in short gasps.

"Lieutenant Torres. I am sure that Mr. Paris has other matters with which to occupy his mind."

B'Elanna turned to glare at Seven, annoyed by her tone.

And then she looked at Tom and realized he was in the middle of a panic attack. She stepped towards him and was forcibly restrained by Seven.

"Get out of my way! I need to see…"

Seven didn't budge.

"Mr. Paris," Seven said. "Perhaps you have duties to attend to in Sickbay?"

Some of the tension left Tom's body. He met Seven's eyes and nodded slightly.

"Yes... I."

"Perhaps you might attend to them."

\--::--

Tuvok walked into the messhall and halted up on seeing Tom sitting across a table from Seven. Tom did not look particularly comfortable, and Seven, in fact, seemed relatively oblivious to his presence as she efficiently consumed the nutrition she required.

Unwilling to see his mate recoil from him again, he quickly moved and got a plate of food, sitting as far from the two as possible. But he could still watch. And watch he did, noting that Tom tensed when Harry approached the table. Watched as Harry forcibly prevented B'Elanna from repeating his actions, leading her instead towards Tuvok's table.

Tuvok raised an eyebrow quizzically and nodded towards Seven and Tom.

"I guess you didn't hear about what happened in Engineering yesterday," Harry said.

"Perhaps you could be more specific."

"Tom flipped out when B'Elanna spoke to him."

"I only asked him to help me with something," B'Elanna said defensively. "I thought maybe if he had something to do..."

"Seven told me she stopped B'Elanna and that afterwards he seemed to trust her."

"Does Seven have any idea what triggered Tom's... panic?"

"Not exactly. But right beforehand, B'Elanna was suggesting Tom help her with a project. And I was thinking..."

"Continue, Ensign," Tuvok said when Harry paused.

"Tom won't have anything to do with the ship. Won't even fly holodeck simulations. We know from Geron and Brownowski that the Randaq were trying to get information about Voyager before they hauled him away..."

"Yes."

"Seven thinks that perhaps B'Elanna's request for information triggered something. So maybe he won't have anything to do with anything that might lead to him giving the enemy what it wants," Harry concluded.

"Is he as fearful of you as he seems to be of me?" Tuvok asked.

"Yeah. Seven thinks that it's because Chakotay was the one to get him off the ship."

"I concur."

"So, Seven thinks," Harry elbowed B'Elanna who was sarcastically mouthing 'Seven thinks' under her breath, "we should try and build on the trust he has for her, and maybe he'll start extending it to other people. But we shouldn't push. Like I did, tonight." Harry made a mournful face, and then pointedly looked at B'Elanna, who growled.

Tuvok nodded. "It will be as you say."

\--::--

Tom watched out of the corner of his eye. Tuvok and B'Elanna and Harry, all eating together. Were they talking about him? Were they _planning_ something?

"Lieutenant Paris. Was your meal satisfactory?"

Tom looked up to see Seven regarding him. "It was... okay." He looked down at his plate. "The smell..."

"The smell?" Seven prompted.

"It's actually not that bad," Tom said. He lifted his fork and cautiously sniffed.

"As you say." Seven returned her attention to her own food.

"No, I mean..."

Inhaling deeply, Tom scented for the stench that signaled the Randaq's presence. But... he identified the smells. The pepper sauce. The faintly burned smell of leola root. Okay, not a bouquet of roses but still...

"Are you unwell, Lieutenant?" Seven asked.

"No. I'm... I'm fine."

\---::---

Tuvok stood calmly and fixed his attention on a spot on the turbolift doors. He would not give Tom a reason to feel nervous or defensive. He would not acknowledge Chakotay's smirk. Instead he would simply wait until he reached his destination, taking solace in the fact that Tom had eaten breakfast with Seven this morning. Naomi Wildman had even been permitted to approach the table. This, perhaps, was progress.

And yet...

Chakotay's body was positioned protectively between his and Tom's. Tuvok did not attempt to ascertain whether Tom was grateful for this.

The turbolift stopped and Chakotay ushered Tom off, one hand resting lightly on Tom's shoulder. Tuvok immediately repressed his reaction to this sight, instinctively looking to see what Tom's response to the gesture might be. Tom cast a quick glance over his shoulder, and met Tuvok's eyes. And Tom graced him with a very small smile.

\---::----

Maybe he was home. Maybe this _was_ all real. Maybe...

It was late and he'd been twice over the ship, vainly scenting for anything that smelled of the Randaq. Granted, the waste recycling units smelled awful. The hydroponics bay smelled more than just a bit unpleasant -- the leola root plants were in blossom. But it wasn't the stench. Nothing like the stench.

Olfactory hallucinations, Tom wondered? No. That was giving in to his paranoia a bit too much. Maybe it was all as it seemed. Maybe everything was going to be okay.

Tom breathed deeply and tried to assimilate that thought into his being.

"Tom?"

Tom started, and turned to face Chakotay.

"Sorry. You were deep in thought." Chakotay reached out to lay a warm hand on Tom's arm. "You okay? It's kind of late to be wandering the ship."

"I'm fine. I think I'm fine," Tom said. Something about Chakotay's attitude was beginning to wear thin. He'd deliberately suppressing his empathic talents, afraid to give the Randaq a line back into his psyche. But with each day that passed without incident, he chanced opening up at random, split-second intervals. And every time he had done so around Chakotay, he wished he hadn't.

Chakotay was baiting Tuvok. Needling him. Not to mention... Tom looked down at the hand that rested on his arm, then up at Chakotay. After a moment, Chakotay withdrew it.

"Tom?"

"Nothing, Chakotay. I'm tired. I think I'm going to turn in."

"If there's something troubling you. If you need to talk?"

"No. I just..." Tom shook his head. "I'm fine. Goodnight, Chakotay."

\---::---

"What was his affect as you ran the simulations together?" Tuvok listened to Harry avidly.

"Mad that his response time was down from the last time he ran the sim." Harry laughed. "It was almost like old Tom. I think he's coming back to us."

Tuvok tried not to allow himself to consider the potential setbacks that might occur. Or the possibility that the change was illusory. He wanted to see the change in Tom for himself, and yet, whenever he saw Tom, Tom inevitably retreated.

"Come to Sandrine's," Harry said. "Tom said he might drop by."

"Perhaps it would be best were I not present."

"No, I think we need to desensitize him to you -- like you do when someone has a phobia."

"Not the most flattering of comparisons," Tuvok remarked.

"Just come. Don't approach him, just let him see that you're not a threat."

A threat to his bondmate... "As you say, Mr. Kim."

\---::---

Tom straightened from his shot and tried not to cast a nervous glance over his shoulder. He hadn't been among a crowd in a long while. Too many people, too many feelings. But from what he could tell, they were sympathetic. Wanting to reassure. But it was still discomfiting to be the object of so many people's attention.

Turning, he handed the pool cue to Harry and walked to the bar. People created a path, and Sandrine was ready with a beer. Turning back he watched as Harry concentrated and sank three shots in a row.

"I get out of practice, and you get cocky?" he called. He tried to approximate his old manner.

It seemed to have worked. Harry looked over and grinned triumphantly as he chalked the pool cue. "Too bad we're not playing for rations. You'd owe me a bundle."

"Have pity," Tom returned mildly and sipped his beer, his eyes straying to a corner table where Tuvok sat with Seven and the captain.

Tuvok looked... delicious, Tom thought. Even in the inevitable uniform, he looked great. Tom took another drink and contemplated approaching him. But of all the steps he'd managed to take the past few days, approaching his bondmate -- his former bondmate? -- was the one he feared most. If all of this was an illusion...

The feeling of panic that he'd managed to push deep within himself started to surge and he clenched his beer mug determinedly; tried to take slow, steady breaths. It wasn't quite working. But while the panic didn't recede, neither did it overwhelm him.

He heard Harry speaking but the words seemed to come from far away. Bile rose in his throat and he blinked repeatedly...

"Lieutenant Paris."

Tom shook his head, attempting to clear it.

"Lieutenant Paris."

The voice was insistent. Familiar. He shook his head again and focused his eyes. Tuvok was standing before him.

"Lieutenant Paris," Tuvok said again.

Tom swayed. He wanted... He wanted... He wanted to lean forward, wanted Tuvok to embrace him. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to get air into his lungs. The smell... The smell was... Pure Tuvok.

Tom's eyes snapped open and he met Tuvok's gaze.

And then someone forced his way between them.

\---::---

Unacceptable. There had been something. _Something_ in Tom's eyes -- as if Tom had been on the verge of reaching out to him. And the commander had stopped it. To be so close to his bondmate; to be the one calming the panic instead of causing it. Chakotay's interference was entirely unacceptable. For an instant, fiery rage engulfed Tuvok and he stepped forward. But the sight of Tom, now leaning on Harry, was enough to recall him to himself. He concentrated, set the emotions aside to be examined later. Instead he tried to project calm, reassurance, on the faint chance that Tom might be able to sense it.

"What did you do?" Chakotay demanded.

Tuvok looked pointedly past the first officer. Harry had an arm around Tom, was leading him toward the door. What had happened?

"Tom seemed to be having a 'panic attack,'" Tuvok said, his attention still focused on Tom.

"You should know by now not to approach him. What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking, Commander, that Tom was panicking and needed to be recalled to himself."

Chakotay opened his mouth, when the captain's voice broke in. "Is everything okay here, gentlemen?"

"Absolutely, Captain. I'll just go and check on my patient." Chakotay wheeled and exited the room.

Kathryn watched him go, then turned to regard Tuvok seriously. "I know this can't be easy."

"Ease or difficulty is irrelevant, Captain."

Kathryn opened her mouth as if to reply, then shook her head as if thinking better of it. "Well, I'm going to call it a night," she said finally. "Perhaps you should do the same."

"Perhaps I will take your advice."

With a brisk nod, the captain departed.

\---::---

"Really, Chakotay, I'm fine. I just need some rest."

"Did Tuvok alarm you in some way?"

"No! It wasn't Tuvok. It was... I was afraid none of it was real. I panicked. I'm over it now."

"But..."

"But nothing. I'm exhausted, Chakotay. Just... go."

"I could help you, you know. Maybe convince you that you are home."

"What?"

"Tom. We were good together once. Since your bond with Tuvok has... Well, it seems to be gone, why not let me help? We can be good together again."

Tom froze. His bond with Tuvok couldn't be gone for good, could it? It was there, he just needed to... needed to... Emerging from his paralysis he realized that Chakotay was pulling him closer, moving in for a kiss.

"Is this an approved counseling technique, _Commander_?" Tom spat. "Get the hell out of my quarters."

"Tom, I'm sorry..." Chakotay said, moving forward.

"Fuck sorry. Get out, before I call security."

For a long moment after Chakotay had departed, Tom stared at the door. "Just go do it, Tom," he finally said aloud.

Drawing a deep breath, he left his quarters and made his way to Tuvok's. He hesitated, then forced himself to raise his hand and ring the chime.

\---::---

Tuvok blinked as the door opened to reveal Tom standing before him. It was most... discomfiting that his bondmate could approach and he remain entirely unaware. And yet... Tom had approached him. Tuvok paused, uncertain, and then stepped back so that Tom might enter. "Please, come in."

Tom cautiously walked through the door, his glance skittering nervously past Tuvok to take in the room. 'Jumping at shadows,' Tuvok thought.

"How may I... be of assistance?" Tuvok said finally. Tom turned to face him, his expression unreadable. But still, Tom was here. Tom had approached him. Tom had not backed into a corner, regarding him as if he might be a _le'matya_ about to strike.

"I... I just need..."

"If I can... help, Tom," Tuvok said softly.

"Just let me..."

Tuvok stood stock-still as Tom approached him slowly, carefully. As Tom leaned in and... scented along Tuvok's neck. Tuvok kept his arms firmly at his sides so that he didn't reach forward and embrace Tom, didn't attempt to reassert their bond through physical contact.

"Can I touch you?" Tom breathed.

"Certainly." Tuvok held himself stiffly, anticipating his bondmate's touch.

And then hands were ghosting across his shoulders, down his chest. Tuvok shut his eyes, taking in the emotions he could sense through Tom's touch. The bond had not flared to life, as he had hoped. But still, he could sense... uncertainty, fear, longing. Love.

"You're real, aren't you?" Tom asked plaintively.

"I... Yes. Yes, I am... real."

Tom stepped closer, his hands sliding to rest on Tuvok's waist. Tuvok warred with himself. Tom needed this, Tom needed him not to make any moves. But perhaps if he... He stopped himself from raising a hand to Tom's hair.

The hands slid around to Tuvok's back and Tom stepped closer still, pressing himself all along the length of Tuvok's body. The warmth of Tom's body was... most welcome, and Tuvok allowed himself to relax slightly.

"May I... touch you?" Tuvok asked.

"Please," Tom murmured. "Please do."

Forcing himself not to grab, firmly reeling in the tendrils of his bond that eagerly sought to reconnect with Tom, he allowed himself to return the embrace. This was good. Tension slowly melted away and he let himself drift.

\---::---

Don't think, Tom told himself. Don't think. Just feel. He felt the rise and fall of Tuvok's chest against his, faintly heard the beat of Tuvok's heart. A familiar rhythm. And the warmth rising off of Tuvok's body beginning to warm him through and through.

Home. He was home, he told himself.

Now if he could just believe it.

\---::---

Five minutes passed, ten, and Tom showed no inclination to either move away or change their position. Tuvok would occasionally feel fear shiver through Tom's system until Tom forcibly quelled it, then relaxed against Tuvok's body once again.

"Tom," Tuvok finally said. "What is it that you... need?"

He could feel Tom tense, preparing himself to speak, then stopping, his breath hitching. Tuvok gently pressed Tom closer.

"I need to believe that what I most want is right here in front of me," Tom finally said. He drew back and smiled ironically at Tuvok. It was a mask that Tuvok had not seen since before they had become bonded.

Tuvok ignored the unease this created within him. "Your empathic skills were used against you? The Randaq used them to... create a false reality?"

Tom nodded slowly, then suddenly backed away, sat down on the couch, his arms curled around his chest protectively. "They... got inside my head. Created illusions that... various people... were with me. That I was back on board Voyager. That I'd fucked up somehow and everyone was dead or... And each time, it seemed more real."

Tuvok sat down carefully on the other end of the couch. "I felt you reach out for me twice. And then, each time... pain." Remembering, a faint aftershock echoed through Tuvok.

Tom's smile was tired. "They peeled back my memories like an onion. With each layer they got closer to what I cared about, what I trusted most, what I feared most. When they got to you... I wanted you to be there so badly and I should have _known_." Tom shook his head angrily.

"Tom, I am... sorry."

"Not your fault that I'm an emotional coward." Tom gave a wry grimace and stared at the coffee table as if it were truly fascinating.

"That is not true," Tuvok said. He repeated himself when Tom refused to respond. "Tom -- t'hy'la -- that is _not_ true."

"Am I?"

"Are you...?" Tuvok watched as Tom's jaw worked as he attempted to vocalize his thoughts.

"Your..." Tom seemed to be unable to speak the word. "Yours," he said finally.

"Are you mine? Tom, if you wish to be be."

Tom looked back at him hopelessly. "I can't feel you," he whispered.

"Is it your wish to?" Tuvok tensed for the response.

Tom nodded once, sharply, and waited.

Relieved, Tuvok asked: "Do you wish me to initiate the meld?"

"Every time I reached out to you..." Tom's voice trailed away and Tuvok again remembered the nearly incapacitating shocks of pain.

He moved closer to Tom and slowly reached out, letting his fingers brush Tom's face, and then pressed to his meld points.

And the bond was open. Tom's body was stiff, as if in expectation of pain that did not come. And then, Tuvok felt him relax.

\---::---

The cool mind of his mate welcomed him, surrounded him, sharpened his perceptions even as it cushioned the remnants of pain and eased them out of existence.

For a second the respite from pain, and the emotional relief that washed through him, was so dizzying it almost made him nauseous. And then he was himself again. Wholly himself.

~ All that I am is yours ~ Tom whispered. He could feel Tuvok holding back and opened his mind further, inviting, welcoming him in.

\---::---

Slowly, Tuvok cautioned himself. Slowly...

He let his hand slip from the meld points and down Tom's shoulder, down his arm, down to his fingers, until just two fingertips touched. He breathed, in meditation rhythm, and waited. Tom was within his mind, surrounding himself with it, letting Tuvok's touch bathe his wounds, soothe them away. And then it was as if Tom simply... dissolved into him. As if the last move in a game of k'alto had been made and the perfect sphere revealed. There were no more barriers.

~ I can't believe I feared this for so long, ~ Tom whispered.

Tuvok simply breathed deeply, concentrating on welcoming his mate home, letting the golden strength wash over him as they made themselves known to one another. It wasn't the tumultuous rush of pon farr, but a series of sparks connecting along a pattern too complex for the mind to map, until all was awash with light and heat.

~ I thought what we had before was... I don't even have words. This is what it means, isn't it? ~

~ Parted from me and never parted. Never and always touching and touched. Yes. ~

The tips of their fingers burned where they met. Tuvok let the pleasure wash over him, immersing himself in the satisfaction of knowing his mate fully. The pulses of pleasure made themselves known in every cell in his body. Ecstasy.

~ No wonder Vulcans do without... This... ~

~ You will never have to do without, Tom. ~

~ Never? ~

Even with his eyes closed, Tuvok could see the sly grin on his mate's face. Tom was truly back. The last remnants of fear and anger and despair slipped away. ~ Never. ~

Slowly he withdrew his fingers from Tom and they were back on Voyager, simply a Vulcan and a human regarding one another as they sat upon a couch. And then Tom moved in close; leaned forward to press his lips to Tuvok's.

\---::---

All the light and heat threatened to flare again and overwhelm the sensation of Tuvok's lips against his own, but Tom forced it down, concentrating on the texture, and then the taste, as Tuvok's mouth opened to him. Curling his hands slowly behind Tuvok's head, he cradled it, angling his head so that he could delve deeply, suckle his mate's tongue.

~ Hmm. You taste good. ~

~ As do you. ~

Tom regretfully abandoned Tuvok's lips and ghosted kisses and nibbles over to an ear, then down Tuvok's neck where he filled his senses with the warm-sweet smell of his mate's arousal. ~ You smell good. ~

Tuvok's arms tightened around him, and Tom continued laying a trail of kisses and nibbles down Tuvok's body. ~ You feel good. ~ Tom pressed forward, pushing Tuvok back along the length of the couch. He breathed deeply, contentedly, idly rubbing his erection against Tuvok's hip as he felt his mate's amusement over his need to express his feelings physically as well as mentally. ~ Tell me you don't enjoy it as much as I do. ~

~ I cannot tell a lie. Bed, Tom? ~

~ Bed. ~

\---::---

Tom started awake, and turned to look at Tuvok who lay asleep beside him. The kisses of the previous night had become slower, lazier, until they had both finally drifted to sleep. But now Tom was awake, and alert, and Tuvok was at his mercy.

But before the thought was complete, Tuvok had rolled up and over him, pinning him to the bed. Dipping his head to Tom's, he began a slow lazy exploration of every sensitive spot on Tom's body.

"No fair... I wasn't ready," Tom said.

~ What is the human expression -- 'ready or not, here I come?' ~

~ Oh, gods, that's _awful_. What have I done to you? ~ Tom pretended apprehension, but the amusement was too clearly apparent.

Tuvok was not to be dissuaded. ~ You know exactly what you have done to me, and you do not have any further regrets on that subject. You are not aware, however, of my plans for you... ~

Tom tested his mate's resolve, but Tuvok was seemingly determined to not give a preview of the coming attractions. He shivered deliciously and arched his neck to allow Tuvok better access, and was rewarded with the sensation of Tuvok's teeth scraping down his neck. He tried to embrace Tuvok, but his wrists were held firmly against the mattress. For a moment he considered asserting control, but held back. Tuvok needed this. As much as Tom did himself, Tuvok needed the reassurance of physical contact.

~ Yes. ~

Tom closed his eyes, allowing himself to savor every sensation produced by the attention lavished upon him. The light brush of fingertips, the slow scrape of fingernails, the caress of loving hands. Lips, teeth, and tongue working in concert.

"Ohhh..." he groaned. Tuvok was working his nipples, over and over. Pulling, sucking, licking. And then a hand reached behind him, and a finger began rubbing over his hole, which pulsated in response. "Yeah, that. I want that." Slick fingers entered him and he rubbed his erection against Tuvok's abdomen. "Please..." he whispered.

And then he was rolled to lie face-down and Tuvok was on top of him, his long, hard cock teasing his cleft.

~ Mine, ~ Tuvok said.

~ Yours, ~ Tom echoed.

And then Tuvok pulled back on his hips, raising his ass into the air, and plunged in.

\---::---

"So good..." his mate sighed.

Tuvok agreed. Clasped deep within Tom's body, his flesh held tightly in slick heat, he paused, savoring the moment.

~ The best of both worlds. ~

Yes. Physical union, psychic union. The best of both worlds. Slowly he began to move, each thrust pushing a whuff of air out of Tom's lungs. He changed angles and felt Tom's gasp and writhe. The best of both worlds for both of them.

Harder now, thrusting faster, he gave himself over to the sensation, allowing himself to feel enough of what Tom was feeling to know how to increase their mutual pleasure. Tom's body began to shudder and Tuvok reached to caress Tom's cock with a slick hand, reveling in the heavy feel of it in his hand as he worked it, over and over in a counter-rhythm to his thrusts.

Tom was thrusting hard against him, then down into his hand, the sweat beading on his neck and back, dripping from his chest onto Tuvok's arm. Tuvok licked at Tom's neck -- taste, touch, sight, sound, smell, all confirming that Tom was under him, that he was in Tom.

Faster, harder, until Tom's breath caught and he emitted a soundless gasp. And then convulsive jerks as Tom's orgasm was pulled from his body. And then Tuvok's own orgasm was upon him, overwhelming him, and the two men collapsed to the mattress as one.

\---::---

After a long moment, Tom recovered and encouraged Tuvok to change positions until they were lying side by side, curled around one another. "Um. Nice." Tom allowed himself to sink into the feeling of being held tightly in his bondmate's arms.

~ I am here, ~ Tuvok said.

"I know. And thank you for waiting. And for not killing Chakotay."

~ I could hardly be of any assistance to you while incarcerated in the brig. ~

"True." Guilt suddenly stabbed at Tom, and he gathered himself up for an apology -- for imagined cowardice, for causing Tuvok pain. And then he felt the compulsion fade away as Tuvok let him see how unnecessary it was. Instead, he let his mind drift to a vision of being buoyed on an ocean's gentle swells. It was surprisingly easy to let go of all the doubts and worries. He smiled as Tuvok followed, floating beside Tom in a vast ocean. The sky was dark overhead, but thousands of stars shone down.

~ Hey. Cheater, ~ Tom said as Tuvok tweaked the water temperature higher.

~ Just a demonstration of control. ~

~ Yeah, right. Don't try to tell me Vulcans can't appreciate the more sybaritic pleasures in life. ~ The water lapped gently around them.

~ Do not attempt to tell me, in future, that you are incapable of meditation. ~

~ Oh, is that what I'm doing? ~

~ Nearly. You do realize that this is a representation of our merged minds? ~

~ Funny. Feels to me as if I'm resting in my lover's arms. ~

~ That too. ~ Tom allowed himself the sensation of being rocked by the waves, bathing in the contentment Tuvok was exuding.

~ It's weird, Tuvok. What am I going go do without all my self-doubt and paranoia? I've only got the 'this is too good I must be dreaming' fear left. ~

A cool touch to his mind, and Tuvok was examining Tom's former doubts and heretofore painful memories. ~ You expended a great deal of energy forgetting these things -- avoiding them, ~ Tuvok remarked. ~ I will just have to find another... outlet for your energy. ~

Tom sifted through the memories too. ~ Another 'outlet,' huh? Now there's a solution. ~ Tom laughed. ~ You're itching to help me get organized, aren't you? ~

~ You will be much happier when your mind is... tidy. ~

~ Tidy. Uh-hum. I've grown used to it this way. ~

~ Insufficient cause for accepting chaos within your psyche. ~

Tom's lips quirked. ~ So, you're going to help me with some house-cleaning? ~

~ Certainly. ~

Tom turned his attention to the sky above, realizing the stars in the unfamiliar night sky were almost a map of the tendrils of their bond. The flashes of starlight intersected, merged, and twined, indicating the connections. ~ Is this how bonds are usually structured? ~

~ To an extent. Our is perhaps more complex given your empathic abilities. And the representation is somewhat... unique. ~

~ Does it concern you? That I have the capacity to affect you? ~

~ We will adjust. Adapt. To an extent, our bond is unique because of your empathic abilities. On other levels, it is, perhaps, the same as any Vulcan bond. ~

~ Perhaps? ~

~ Insufficient data. ~

~ Right. ~ Tom traced the constellations again. ~ Talk about thanking your lucky stars. ~ He relaxed further, carrying Tuvok with him, and let the pattern enfold them both.

\---::---

-Fin-


End file.
